Something is definitely wrong with me.
I'm sick. I'm mentally ill. They need to lock me up in a padded room.
It's Saturday afternoon and I'm sitting at my house with about 20 pounds of Christopher's clothing.
I was getting dressed this morning at Christopher's. I was putting on my bra and staring at the blood stain on his sheets from a bloody nose he got earlier this week. Christopher was still lying in bed, watching me.
"You know I'm going to see you tonight. Why don't I take your sheets home with me and wash them for you. I'll bring them back when I pick you up tonight for the party."
"Really?"
"Yeah, that way I can make up for the time I got the bloody nose on your sheets that first night I met you. Besides, I can just do it at home, or have the house keeper do it, and that way you won't have to go to the laundromat."
"Yeah, ok."
He hauls out his laundry basket and we strip the bed and put the sheets in. He then proceeds to take this huge pile of clothing in the corner of his room and put it in the basket. I honestly thought it was a couple of shirts on top of a box, but no, it was solid clothing. He then goes into his bathroom and grabs all his towels and stuffs them in the basket too. I look in his closet. The only thing in there is a selection of sport coats. His entire wardrobe is in this basket. He confirms this when he bends over to pick up the basket and groans.
"I'm so not taking that down four flights of stairs. You carry it down and put it in my truck for me," I say.
So now I'm sitting here with his entire wardrobe next to me. I'm waiting until my father leaves for me to do it; I don't feel like explaining why I'm washing man clothes. Ooh, these boxers are cute.
What kind of person offers to do someone's laundry? Granted, I was originally talking about his sheets, but he's a man. He can do his own laundry. It did it before he met me and I'm sure he'll do it after me. Am I so eager to please that I'll go out of my way like this?
Yes I am.
I just pray I don't find any skid marks.
4:54 PM
5 days ago
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2 comments:
Ewwww...I was thinking romantic thoughts and memories of doing things for my husband when we first started dating...UNTIL the skid mark joke...YUUUUCKKKK. Excuse me, I'm barfing now.
Okay, I'm back. My husband would NOT do dishes. When we met and I went to his apartment he had a sink full. At least he had rinsed them so that they weren't crusty. I washed them for him. He appreciated it.
I think it's a nice gesture. But I'd make Christopher re-pay you for dumping all his clothes in the basket.
Okay, I feel a little better about it now that I know you went out of your way too!
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